


House Rules

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Winchesters, Big Brother Dean Winchester, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Intervention, Non-Consensual Spanking, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5208092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam comes back and finds Dean sitting in the dark, he expected another argument - over the blood, over Ruby, over all of it.</p>
<p>He gets way more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Rules

Sam slid his key quietly into the door, turned it, and held his breath as he snuck inside.

Dean was never going to get it, and Sam knew there was no point in trying to explain. That angered him; how did Dean think he’d coped, survived, those months he was in Hell?

It was no different from him trading his soul for Sam’s life. He’d just gone down another lane of the same road, and he was sick of Dean pretending that he wouldn’t have set about killing every demon he could in revenge if Sam had been torn apart in front of him.

He didn’t love Ruby, and he knew what he was doing was wrong. But he didn’t feel guilty about it until Dean looked at him like he was the embodiment of everything in the world that had broken him down.

Fuck Dean for putting that on him.

All the same, he glanced at the bed as he came in, hoping to see Dean asleep. 

The bed was empty.

Sam looked away, wishing there was a better way for them to deal with this than the way they were. Dean shoves, he doesn’t give ground, Dean shoves some more and then goes to a bar to get drunk.

And when Dean sobered up, the ride would start all over again.

“Sammy,” Dean said, his voice low and tight, and Sam nearly stumbled as he spun around.

His first reaction was relief, because Dean was sitting at the small table in the corner, and turned the lamp on so Sam could see his unmarked face. One of these nights, Dean was going to go out and get drunk and get jumped. Maybe not even by demons. Maybe just some guys looking for a fight and figuring his brother looked like a nice way to work off their testosterone. 

And somehow, Sam knew, if that happened it would be down to him. Dean would never say it, but Sam would know it all the same.

His second reaction was annoyance. Mostly at himself, for being so distracted he didn’t know Dean was there. Just as well it had been Dean, and not something that had gotten past the wards. But Dean was the distraction, so Sam let it out.

“What the hell?” he snapped. “Seriously? I’m kind of old for you to be waiting up on me, Dean. I don’t have a curfew.”

“Because you’re not a child,” Dean said. His voice was frustratingly controlled, and Sam knew that meant he was holding on tight to his temper. “Except I’m starting to wonder.”

“I don’t have to answer to you,” Sam said. “You’re so sure you know it all, that you’re right, every time. Being my big brother doesn’t make you fucking perfect. I’m tired of this righteous man bullshit.”

He would have given anything then to pull that back in. All that dark power curling in him, but it didn’t give him the ability to unsay the words that just stuck his brother like a knife.

“Dean,” he started, but he could see from his brother’s face there was nothing he could say, now. Dean had shut him down, shut him out, and Sam shook his head. This was worse than if Dean had just got drunk and passed out and left them to start over tomorrow.

“Drop them,” Dean said.

Sam stared at him and looked stupidly down at himself. He had his gun, his knife, his wallet. What, he was grounded and Dean was taking his toys away?

“Your pants, Sam, I want you to drop your pants.”

Sam snorted at him in disbelief. He shivered a little at the look Dean gave him in response, but he was too stubborn to back up even a step.

“Dean,” he tried again.

“I told you, Sam. I told you it had to stop, or I’d make you stop. Maybe this is something I should have done earlier and if it is then I’m sorry I didn’t. But I’m going to do it now. So drop them or I’ll come over there and make you.”

Sam glanced from his brother to the door. He doubted Dean could physically make him do anything, but he didn’t want to be scrapping with him. Tense as things were, Sam figured it wouldn’t be their typical rough housing where a bloody noise or a bruised face was the worse they got out of it.

It would be full on, no holds barred, and Sam wasn’t sure he’d even try to hold back if Dean took it to that level. He wasn’t sure Dean would either and maybe this was how they’d settled differences in the past – issues that were laughingly minor looking back, unlike this one – but it wasn’t how he wanted to deal with this.

“If you walk out, stay out,” Dean said.

Sam dropped his gaze to the floor. It killed him to hear Dean say that, so he knew it had cut Dean deep to have to.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

“You’re not,” Dean said. “Not yet. But you’re going to be. Now do it.”

Sam undid his belt, tugged it free and put it on the bed behind him. Dean would probably not take this too far. Maybe he’d baulk once Sam took his pants off. Maybe he was just trying to show Sam he was prepared to do this if he had to.

But by the time Sam had put his jeans next to the belt he was starting to shiver and he knew Dean hadn’t taken his eyes off him.

He stood for a moment, then figured it was best to just get it out of the way. He started forward, but Dean stood up.

“You’re too big for the chair, Sam. Turn around.”

Sam had never even had to think about showing Dean his back until now and it was almost more than he could do. Dean waited until he was facing the bed before moving past him, and sitting himself down.

“Over my lap,” he said.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam blurted out. “Dean, come on, I’m not going to let you spank me.”

“Yes, you are,” Dean said. “I’m through trying to talk to you about this, Sam. You won’t listen and you won’t think about it and you won’t bend for anybody. But I’m going to make you, Sam. So get on my lap.”

Sam forced himself to meet Dean’s look. His eyes were desperate, pleading, and he could see what Dean thought was going to happen. Sam was going to get dressed, and leave, and he was going to lose him.

That wasn’t going to happen. He wished he could make Dean see! He had this under control, and it was a weapon, a shield, another way he could keep them safe.

But maybe this was how he could make Dean realise that. It wasn’t the first whupping he’d ever had. The first from Dean, and he prayed the last. But by not doing what Dean expected – leaving; by doing what Dean said he couldn’t – bending…. This was his chance to show Dean he had a handle on this.

He settled himself awkwardly over Dean’s lap, shifting to balance himself until Dean’s hand came down on the small of his back.

Even though he could have just shrugged it off, and got up, Sam suddenly felt pinned and a flare of panic moved through him.

“Easy,” Dean said, “don’t,” and then he brought his hand down sharply on Sam’s ass.

Sam hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t Dean just letting rip with that first one.

He yelped despite himself, and try to push himself up, but his position left him at a disadvantage.

More so the break in Dean’s voice when he spoke again. “Fucking stay there, Sam.”

So he did.

He jerked and struggled with each irregular blow, but he never tried to get up. He couldn’t anticipate them; they came harder each time and sometimes grouped together or one-pause-one as if Dean was catching his breath. They were the product of Dean’s fears and his hurt and his fury with all the things he couldn’t fight to save them from so they were raw and real and Sam gave up trying to expect.

Each blow hurt, and though Sam felt it more deep inside him that out, he knew it was Dean who shattered with every hit.

He didn’t even know he was crying until he felt his eyes nip and his face grow hot.

“Dean,” he said, “Dean, please, I’m sorry, just stop!”

Something harder drew a welt across his cheeks then and Sam let out a yell. “I said stop!”

Whatever it was, it hurt worse than Dean’s hand, but it came down on him again and again and again, and Sam struggled harder.

“How can I?” Dean grunted. “When we both now you’re going back to her first chance you get. It’s gonna kill you, Sam, and I won’t lose you again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you but I had no other way.”

Sam let himself slump down, lightheaded and dizzy. Dean was going to keep this up until he passed out. He wasn’t going to stop.

He wasn’t even aware Dean had until he realised Dean was talking to him.

“…Sammy, it’s ok, it’s over, please, come on back to me.”

Dean was turning him over carefully. He pulled Sam into his arms, as gently as he could, and cradled him.

“Please, Sammy, please don’t go back to her.”

The pain had settled into a numbness that probably wasn’t a great sign, but Sam would have taken it any day over the way Dean sobbed against him. Sam shifted, his body tight and cold suddenly, and managed to get onto his knees.

“I never did any of this to hurt you,” he told Dean. He cupped his brother’s face in his hands, forced Dean to look at him. “But I couldn’t find any other way either.”

Dean slumped against him, and Sam hugged him, sure he was squeezing tight enough to hurt. But Dean didn’t pull back.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean said.

Sam shook his head. “No. No more apologies. How about we just stop hurting each other? Can we do that?”

Stop dying on each other?

Dean nodded against him, and Sam started to ease his brother back on the bed. They both needed sleep, but once Dean was settled, the next thing Sam was going to do was see just what kind of mess Dean had made of his ass.

He shoved his jeans and belt onto the floor, and his fingers brushed something plastic. He picked it up, but focused on getting Dean flat on the bed.

He was out by the time Sam drew the covers over him and stepped back.

Now he was starting to hurt. He limped into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and only then looked at what was in his hand.

It was a hairbrush and Sam knew when he finally worked up the guts to twist around in the mirror and check himself out he was going to see matching welts on his ass.

Fuck’s sake, Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt over at SPN Kink meme:
> 
> _Sam lied about Ruby, lied about using his psychic abilities and hid that he's been drinking demon blood...._
> 
> _So Dean gives Sam one warning stop it or else. Sam of course sneaks out again and does everything Dean told him not to do._
> 
> _When Sam gets back to the motel they are staying, he is surprised to find Dean still awake and sitting waiting for him. What shocks him more is Dean's tone of voice and the order he issues out "Drop them"_
> 
> _Dean is going to make damn sure the message sinks in, even if he has to tan Sammy hide for a week, he'll make damn sure the kid never forgets._
> 
> _Somehow Sammy finds himself over his big brother knees...This can't be happening!! Until he feels the first sting on his ASS, compliments of Dean's hard hand._
> 
> _Kinks: spanking,use of hair brush, crying, BAMF Dean, naughty Sammy  
> _


End file.
